


On A Dare

by SeireiLeafy



Series: On A Dare [1]
Category: CrankGameplays - Fandom, Crankiplier - Fandom, Video Blogging RPF, markiplier - Fandom
Genre: CrankGameplays - Freeform, Frottage, Getting Together, Grinding, Lapdance, M/M, Markiplier - Freeform, Porn with Feelings, Smut, Songfic, crankiplier - Freeform, oh god is this technically a songfic?, striptease
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-07
Updated: 2020-11-07
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:35:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27431371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeireiLeafy/pseuds/SeireiLeafy
Summary: Mark is dared to give Ethan a lap-dance. Later, Mark asks if he can give Ethan a private show.
Relationships: Mark Fischbach/Ethan Nestor
Series: On A Dare [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2013016
Comments: 17
Kudos: 299





	On A Dare

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by watching that one clip from the You're Welcome Tour on repeat for an hour. Don't lie, you know exactly which one I'm talking about.

When the party finally began to die down, people slowly making their way out the door to waiting designated drivers and curling up on couches, it was already about 2 in the morning. There was still loud music playing, a few straggling party animals doing their best to keep a game of beer pong going, but there was enough of a lull in the excitement that Ethan didn’t feel too bad about calling it a night. He really just wanted to put the awkwardness of the party behind him and retire to his bedroom.

Standing up from the couch he had been lounging on, he opened his arms wide and plastered a smile on his face. “Well, that’s me done for the night, guys!”

A round of ‘goodnights’ sounded off from around him where the less party inclined people had begun to crash out on the lounges around him, and a few louder, more insistent ‘boo’s’ rang out from the beer pong table in the attached dining room.

He glanced towards the table and waved at the people there, one of which was Mark, who was holding a ping pong ball in his hand, ready to shoot his shot. Mark was giving him a look he couldn’t quite decipher, so he gave him a quick smile and turned to climb the stairs to the hallway, fully intent on crashing out in the spare bedroom of Mark’s home he had come to call his own.

With the loud music still playing, muffled though it was through the walls, he still didn’t hear the footsteps as they came up behind him.

“Hey!”

Ethan stopped and turned to see Mark jogging up to him, coming to stand in front of him.

“Are you okay?”

Ethan nodded his head, smiling a smile he really didn’t feel. “Mhm!”

He tried to turn and continue walking, not wanting to be so close to Mark with the memory of his dancing so fresh in his mind. He didn’t really trust his body or his voice at this point.

“Woah, hey!”

A hand grabbed his wrist as he tried to make a break for it, and Ethan tensed at the contact, he really definitely did not need Mark touching him right now. He turned back to look at Mark and opened his mouth to retort quickly with some excuse about how he had to right now immediately leave, but it died on his tongue.

Mark was really close, eyebrows pulled together in worry and he looked so goddamn concerned that Ethan felt his heart leap into his throat. His eyes were bright and in the dim hallway, Ethan could swear they lit up the room.

“Are you sure you’re alright?”

Marks voice had dropped to a quieter tone, the concern on his face leaking into his words. As he spoke, he let go of Ethan’s wrist, and Ethan would be grateful if he wasn’t immediately longing for the warm contact again.

Ethan tried nodding again. “Yeah! Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”

Mark brought a hand up to rub at the back of his neck, looking almost bashful.

“Well, it’s just… you looked really uncomfortable during that dare and I… I just wanted to make sure we were okay?”

Oh, Mark thought he was upset with him.

“Oh, yeah, no! Yeah, don’t worry about that! It was pretty funny!”

Mark didn’t look convinced. Ethan couldn’t even look him in the eye.

“Are… are you sure? You kind of started avoiding me… I couldn’t even catch your eye. Or am I reading too much into that?”

 _I couldn’t even catch your eye._ Oh, if only knew how hard Ethan had fought to keep his eyes to himself after Marks performance. Eyes constantly drifting from whatever or whoever was in front of him to just stare at Mark unabashedly while he wasn’t looking. Ethan was glad he had apparently hidden it well.

But now, he was starting to feel bad. Mark was second guessing his decisions, questioning himself, and dwelling on the idea that he could have damaged their relationship. As if there was anything Mark could do that would push Ethan away.

Ethan bit his lip, indecision wracking his brain. He had three options here, and he had to choose carefully. Continue to lie to Mark and say everything was fine? Short term it works, he could continue on his way to bed, fight the urge to jack-off to the memory of his best friend giving him a lap-dance and inevitably fail, then dwell in shame and misery for the rest of the night and hope he can look Mark in the eye the next day. But there’s no way Mark would believe him, he wasn’t that good a liar or an actor, and it would inevitably come back to bite him in the ass.

Second option, switch up the lie, tell Mark he was uncomfortable with it, that it upset him. Again, it could work. He could probably walk away without Mark stopping him, but there would no doubt be an awkward talk about it too. Ethan also knew it would make Mark feel terrible, and his heart clenched at the idea of Mark feeling like crap because Ethan was too insecure to just admit out loud that he liked it.

Ethan was vaguely aware of how long he had been quiet by now, and his options were running out. There wasn’t much he could say now that wouldn’t be suspicious after the extended pause. Mark was still looking at him, awaiting his response, no doubt becoming more and more worried the longer it took Ethan to speak.

There really was only one other option.

Eventually, Mark looked away from Ethan, a sigh escaping him and his eyes closing for a moment. He looked back up at Ethan.

“I’m sorry, Ethan. I shouldn’t have pushed that on you. I should have –“

“I liked it.”

Mark blinked, eyebrows shooting up.

“You… you what?”

Ethan took a deep breath, hands clenching into fists at his side, looking anywhere but at Mark.

“I-I liked it. Like, too much. Way too fucking much, and I shouldn’t have, I know, but you’re just so… so…”

“I’m so what?”

“So- so…” Ethan groaned in frustration, exasperatedly waving his hands around, trying to get his point across without having to say the words to the confused man in front of him. “Hot! You’re hot, Mark! And when you’re all, all over me and taking off your fucking clothes and looking at me like- like…”

Ethan trailed off, his eyes wide. Panic welled up in him as he slowly came to realise what he had said, and his eyes shot up to Mark's shocked face.

“Oh, shit,” Ethan was out of breath, fear snatching the air in his lungs as he imagined the figurative pillars of friendship crashing around him at his confession, “Oh fuck, fuck, Mark, I’m sorry. Shit, I should’ve kept my mouth shut-“

“You think I’m hot?”

Ethan opened his mouth, then closed it, opened it again. He frowned. “I-I… um… yeah. I-I do.”

Marks eyes were still on him, but Ethan couldn’t tell what emotion he was expressing this time. There was still shock there, but there was also something else that Ethan just couldn’t quite grasp.

Mark jutted his chin forward for a moment, looking down at the ground before his eyes found Ethan’s again.

“Did you…” Mark took a deep breath, cutting off his own sentence, then letting it out. “Did my dancing turn you on?”

Ethan felt heat shoot up his neck, his cheeks heating in embarrassment at being caught.

“Mark, I’m so fucking sorry-“

“Did it, Ethan?”

Ethan fumbled for a second, his apology caught on his tongue. He swallowed it. Instead of trusting his voice to survive the admittance, he nodded his head minutely, hoping maybe Mark would miss it.

Mark shifted his weight in front of him. “Do you… want me to do it again?”

Queue it being Ethan’s eyebrows turn to rocket up to his hairline because _what the what now?_

If Ethan had been fumbling before, now he was straight up floundering. “W-w-what? I mean... _what?_ "

Mark locked him with a steady gaze. “Do you want me to dance for you again?”

This _had_ to be a joke. There was absolutely no way in hell Mark was offering, in all seriousness, to give him what would be his _second_ lap-dance of the night. Ethan wanted to pinch himself.

“I… Mark, are you… are you fucking with me? Because-“

Even Ethan could hear the alarm in his own voice before Mark cut him off.

“No, I’m dead serious. I want to dance for you again.”

Ethan swallowed, mouth and throat suddenly dry. Clarification needed.

“Um… the same way a-as before…?”

Mark nodded, suddenly looking uncharacteristically unsure of himself.

“Yeah, just with… less people around.”

And, oh, the implications of _that_ certainly didn’t escape Ethan. Now they were in dangerous territory. A dance on the club floor versus a private show behind curtains.

“W-would you be… uh… y’know…”

“Stripping?”

If Ethan’s face could burn any brighter, he would probably rival the sun. He nodded jerkily.

Mark nodded, as well. “Yeah… if that’s okay with you.”

Ethan nodded again, and it was really starting to shake his brain, all this nodding. There was silence for a few moments, both of them just watching each other, waiting for the other to make a move. Ethan had no intention of being the first, if his feet hadn’t melted to the ground from the heat coursing through his body by now, he would surely be unable to move from the sheer weight of Marks eyes on him.

Mark was, of course, the first to speak.

“My room or yours?”

And now there was the introduction of a _secondary location_. Ethan’s brain unhelpfully started rolling distracting clips of certain comedians, and he tried to keep his focus on the literal insanity that was playing out in front of him in the form of his best friend offering to do a striptease for him. _Another_ striptease, that is.

Ethan took a breath, forcing his brain back on task. Said task being ‘ _don’t freak out, don’t freak out, don’t freak out._ ’

“Y-yours…?”

Mark nodded once again, and Ethan wondered if he was suffering the same shaken brain syndrome as he was. Then he was holding out his hand for Ethan to take. Ethan shakily reached out, still half convinced he was being fucked with (the other half of him was partly convinced he had already died from alcohol poisoning and this was heaven), and took it.

Immediately, he was being dragged down the hall, past the door to his own bedroom, and into the master. Mark pulled him to the centre of the room, before turning back to the door. Ethan heard the lock click and suddenly was _very_ aware of the fact that he was now completely alone with a man that apparently had every intention of being naked in front of him.

Mark turned back to him, and Ethan shifted awkwardly under his gaze. Marks eyes drifted from Ethan to the armchair that sat in the corner of the room under a reading lamp, to the California king bed that took up a good chunk of the room behind him.

His eyes flicked back to Ethan.

“So,” Mark started, his voice resolute, “Your choice, Eth. Bed or chair?”

Ethan was quiet for a moment. Now that the music from downstairs had been almost completely drowned out by the distance and a closed door, Ethan could now actually hear the lower tone of Marks voice clearly. He gulped nervously.

The choice of the bed was very suggestive, but choosing the chair would be a lot more… _restrictive._

“Bed might… might be easier?”

Mark nodded, seemingly in agreement. He gestured to the bed in a motion to bid Ethan to sit, and walked over to the small nightstand that sat next to the bed, on top of which was a small speaker. Ethan gingerly sat on the edge of the bed, fingers clenching in the fabric before smoothing out the wrinkles and repeating. Nerves clawed at his throat.

Pulling his phone from his pocket, Mark looked across the bed to Ethan.

“What song?”

Ethan frowned. “Song?”

Mark grinned at him, waving his phone around. “Yep! Got to have music to dance, come on. Pick your poison.”

“Oh, um…” Ethan wracked his brain, trying to come up with a single song that could possibly be appropriate enough to be the backing track of him getting a strip-tease from Mark. _The_ Mark. _AGAIN_. “How about…”

Mark scoffed, “Come on, man! First thing that come to your mind.”

“Talk Dirty to Me!”

Mark raised an eyebrow at his outburst. Ethan, whose blood had probably finally started to vacate his cheeks, surged back into them. “It’s a Jason Derulo song!”

The other man chuckled, looking back down at his phone and fiddling with it for a few moments “Oh, I’m aware.”

And then, a woman’s voice was echoing out into the room, a giggle following. Mark glanced across at Ethan, head still low and eyes dark. _Oh, fuck._

Ethan tried in vain to swallow the lump in his throat as the music started.

Now Mark was walking towards him, and he almost forgot how to breathe. The saunter in Mark’s step and the sway of his hips, it was enough to almost drive Ethan insane. Mark's hands were already running up his own legs, onto his chest and up into his hair, whole body moving to the beat of the music like the worlds hottest metronome, (‘Great analogy, there, brain.’). Then his hands were travelling back down to grab the lapels of the flannel shirt he was wearing over his white tank.

The singing began.

_I’m that flight that you get on. International._

Mark's shoulders shrugged, hands pulling on it in tandem, bringing it down to his elbows and exposing the tops of his arms in a move that Ethan starkly remembers being used so many times in the ‘You’re Welcome’ Tour. Ethan’s fingers twitched at his side.

_First class seat on my lap girl, riding comfortable._

Mark turned his back to Ethan, pulling the shirt down further and then completely off. Then, with one hand still holding the shirt, he brought it up and over his shoulder to rest, turning towards Ethan again.

_‘Cuz I know what the girl them need._

Mark was moving closer to him, and he tightened his fingers in the duvet beneath him. Ethan knew he was gawking, but there was just no way in hell he’d be able to hide it if he even wanted to at this point. Mark reached out the hand that was holding his shirt and dropped it beside Ethan on the bed. He was close enough now that Ethan could easily just reach out and touch him. But he kept still.

The man in front of him brought his hands back to his own hips, one running up and over his chest once again, moving to wrap around the back of his own neck. The other hand caught his tank with one hand, lifting it to expose part of his flat stomach.

_New York to Haiti._

_I got lipstick stains on my passport._

Mark dropped. On his knees in front of Ethan now, he looked up at him. The look in his eyes was dark and had Ethan’s breath picking up pace. The hand that was holding his own shirt let go, letting it fall back down into place, now reaching out and grabbing Ethan’s knee.

Ethan’s skin prickled at the contact. He could feel the warmth of his hand starkly through his sweats and it warmed his whole body.

_You make it hard to leave._

Marks other hand joined the first one on his other knee, and he pulled himself up into a standing position, leaning over Ethan.

_Been around the world, don’t speak the language._

Straightening up (Ethan nearly whined from the lost closeness), Mark grabbed the bottom of his tank with both hands again, this time, finally, _mercifully_ , trailing the top up and over his head, pulling it off completely. It was far from the first time Ethan had seen Mark topless, but context was everything and none of the other times could even come close to this.

_But your booty don’t need explaining._

Mark crowded in closer, one of his legs coming up and his knee coming to land on the outside of Ethan’s thigh. A hand reached out and braced on his shoulder.

_All I really need to understand is._

The other knee came up, and now _sweet Jesus_ Mark was straddling him. Still raised on his haunches and not quite sitting in Ethan’s lap but close enough to it to have Ethan’s breath stuttering as he tilted his head back to look up at Mark.

_When you –_

The hand retracted, and then Mark had both his hands behind himself, now bracing on either of Ethan’s knees. Mark arched his back, his head tilting back.

_Talk dirty to me._

And, oh, that’s when the beat dropped and Mark’s hips started. The air thrusting was really something to behold, not exaggerated like it had been on stage during the tour, not comical in any way shape or form. Ethan couldn’t even comprehend finding what was happening right now as anything close to humorous because he was so completely enveloped with just how intensely hot it was.

As the beat continued, one of Mark’s hands began to roam over his own body again, one hand still holding himself in place. A few seconds passed and then that hand was leaving Marks body and moving to come to rest on Ethan’s own chest, where Ethan was sure the other man could feel his heart hammering out of his body.

Then Mark was leaning forward, hand on his knee coming off to grab Ethan’s shoulder, and he was sitting his whole weight down onto Ethan’s lap.

And oops, Ethan was _hard_. Harder than he had been in probably a _while_. Ethan could practically feel his soul leave his body at the realisation that with the pressure now on his erection, there was absolutely no way that Mark hadn’t noticed.

So, situation assessment; half naked best friend, sitting in his lap, while he had an erection. Ethan could die happy right now, but would probably be taken by the embarrassment first.

Ethan was still staring wide-eyed at Mark’s face, mouth open as he tried to remember how to breathe. Marks breathing was heavy too, Ethan noticed, his chest rising and falling with the effort to suck in breaths and Ethan wondered vaguely how someone so in-shape could be so breathless after so little movement. The music continued to play in the background, but Mark was no longer, ahem, _performing_ , and it went unnoticed by either man as they looked at each other.

Ethan waited for Mark to speak first.

“Holy shit, Eth…” Mark started, his voice was barely above a whisper, but at this distance, more than loud enough. He glanced down between them, and Ethan had enough presence of mind to know exactly what Mark was looking at, before he caught his eye again. “That’s all it takes, huh?”

Ethan groaned, mortified. He brought his hands up from where he had been digging holes into the duvet and covered his face as it burned with embarrassment. Without thinking, and out of habit, he flopped himself back onto the bed, momentarily forgetting about the man on top of him. Immediate regret flooded him as Mark jostled on top of him, causing a friction that would have been welcome if it wasn’t so damn mortifying. Ethan bit his lip to stop a noise he was sure he would never live down from escaping him.

A muffled sound came from above him, followed by a muttered, “Ah, fuck…”

Ethan parted his fingers to look up at Mark, who had moved with him and was now bracing himself with a hand on the mattress. Mark’s eyes were wide now too, and he watched as he swallowed. And then, Ethan noticed it.

The unmistakeable pressure of something that was now pressing into his hip, and Ethan could barely believe it.

Mark was hard too.

Ethan gulped, bringing his hands down away from his face and trying to find a confidence in himself that he wasn’t entirely sure was there. But Mark was hard, he had to be enjoying this at least a little bit, and Ethan couldn’t help but try and press a little further, push his luck.

“What, uh… what kind of stripper only takes off their shirt…?”

Ethan was almost horrified at himself for the words, but the split second of shock giving way to the darkening look in Mark’s eyes made it worth it. Mark leaned back up, hands coming down to the front of his jeans and grabbing hold of his belt buckle.

Slowly, out of step with the beat of the speaker that was now playing some unknown song in the background, Mark pulled the buckle free, head tilted back slightly, and looking down his nose at Ethan.

Ethan moved to prop himself up on his elbows, his eyes desperately trying to decide where to focus between the bare expanse of Marks chest, his heated gaze, and the hands that were now slowly pulling the belt through the looks of his jeans.

When the belt finally came loose, Mark let it fall unceremoniously to the floor behind him. His hands came back to just rest gently on the waistband of his pants, his fingers danced teasingly across the buttons.

Ethan’s eyes flicked back up to Marks face, who’s eyes were now fixing him with an almost hungry stare. Mark smirked.

His fingers started working the buttons, each one popped through agonizingly slow to Ethan. Then he was pulling down the zipper and Ethan was practically salivating. Jeans now undone, Mark pulled his hands back up to his waistband, hooking his fingers onto the edge of both his jeans and the dark blue briefs he was wearing underneath. He pulled them down, just a little.

And now, straddling Ethan, was a slightly sweaty, half naked, clearly turned-on Mark, who had exposed just enough for Ethan to see where the clear cut V of his hip tapered, and the very base of his dick.

“Fuck…”

Ethan was speaking before his mind could catch up to his words, and he bit his bottom lip.

“Mark… c-can I…”

“You can do whatever you want to me, Eth.”

Mark’s voice was breathy, low. Ethan exhaled heavily, like the air had been punched out of his lungs. Why did Mark have to have such a fuckable _voice_ of all things. Ethan nodded, shifting a little to bring one of his hands from his side up to Mark’s hip, wrapping his fingers around the protruding bone and rubbing his thumb up along the indentation of the V in his hips. Marks breath stuttered above him, and the legs still bracketing him tensed slightly at the motion. Ethan swallowed, catching Mark’s eye once again. “Pant’s off.”

It didn’t come out quite as authoritative as Ethan would have liked, more of a whisper, and even he could hear the shudder in his voice at his own command.

Mark didn’t seem to mind too much, and the man was immediately off of his lap, reefing down his jeans and pulling them over his feet with none of the poise and sensuality he had before. His eagerness more primal than that, and, Ethan would argue, way fucking hotter.

Now Mark was standing in front of Ethan, in nothing more than a thin pair of boxer briefs that were prominently tented at the front. His weight shifted unevenly between his feet, and he stared down at Ethan who still lay on the bed, seeming unsure and looking indecisive of what he should do next now that he had broken the contact they had.

Ethan sat up, pushing himself up and scooting backwards a little on the bed so that he was fully seated with his calves pressed against the mattress, feet still on the floor. Mark watched him like a hawk, but he didn’t move.

That was, until Ethan patted his lap. Mark caught the hint quickly, and was back on Ethan’s lap fast. Now, they sat chest to chest, Mark looking down at Ethan from his slightly higher vantage, one hand once again on Ethan’s shoulder, the other resting on his own thigh.

Ethan trailed his hands up, letting them come to rest on Mark’s hips. They sat like that for a moment.

“This is…” Ethan huffed out a short laugh. “A lot.”

Mark grinned. “Yeah.”

Ethan’s mind was racing, what exactly was expected next? What did he want to do? What would Mark let him do…?

“What, I mean… what can-“

“Like I said, whatever you want.”

Ethan nodded. “I think I want… w-want to…” Ethan trailed off as his mind was filled with ideas, scenarios, scenes. Each one that entered Ethan’s mind was dirtier than the last.

Ethan must have been taking longer than he realised to finish his sentence, because pretty soon, Mark was leaning in. As he moved, his hips shifted, canting towards Ethan’s and pressing down in a way that caused Ethan’s hands to tighten their grip. Mark pressed his mouth to the spot just beneath Ethan’s jaw, right by his ear. His mouth was warm, and just the light press of lips to his skin and hot breath skirting over his neck had Ethan supressing a shiver.

“Tell me what you want to do to me, Ethan.” Ethan’s slipped shut, it was fair how smooth Mark’s voice was. Pressed into his skin so he could feel the vibrations, his voice felt affected Ethan that much more and he felt his dick twitch beneath Mark.

“I want to make you moan.”

Not even Ethan could tell you where the confidence to speak those words so easily came from, but goddamn was it worth it when his words alone pulled a deep groan from Mark, who dropped his forehead to rest on Ethan’s shoulder and moved his hands down to begin tugging at the bottom hem of Ethan’s shirt. “Jesus Christ, Nestor, you’re going to kill me.”

Ethan got the hint pretty quickly and pulled back slightly from Mark to pull his shirt up and over his head. Marks hands were already working at the drawstring of Ethan’s sweatpants, pulling at the knot, and tugging the strings free.

And then, Ethan was being pushed down onto his back again, going with the motion easily because at this point, anything Mark asked him to do would be done without a second thought. Mark lifted himself a little off of Ethan’s lap, and began pulling his sweats down to his mid-thigh. Ethan lifted his hips from the bed slightly to assist the movement, before settling back down. Now Ethan was just as exposed as Mark, prominent tent in the front of his own underwear clearly visible.

Mark wasted no time in lowering himself back down into Ethan’s lap, angling his hips so that their dicks pressed together through the material that covered them.

And that first contact was _heaven_. Ethan gasped out a moan as Mark echoed it with his own groan of pleasure, Ethan’s hips rising just a little to press just that little bit harder into Mark. Then Mark was leaning forward, both his hands coming down on Ethan’s chest, and Ethan grabbed onto Mark's strong thighs just to give himself something to do with his hands lest he start pulling his own hair out from the onslaught of pleasure.

But _oh_ , then Mark started grinding, and whatever bar Ethan had set for heaven on Earth in the past few moments skyrocketed. The rhythm Mark had set was so incredibly perfect, each grind pressing along the line of his dick and rubbing at the head in a way that had Ethan gasping and whimpering with each pass. One particularly hard press had Ethan groaning out a low ‘ _fuck_ ’.

“Fuck, Ethan, you have n-no idea…” Mark stopped talking for a second in favour of a small moan. “…h-how long I’ve been imagining this…”

Ethan closed his eyes, head tilting back onto the mattress as he soaked in the friction and Mark’s words. This was all too good to be real, surely. Still, Ethan wanted to relish in the things Mark was saying. “Tell me, tell me how long, Mark. Shit, d-don’t stop.”

Mark seemed to double down on his efforts, his hips beginning to grind harder and longer as Ethan pressed his own hips up to meet them repeatedly, helping them both along.

“The whole _fucking_ time, Eth…. Jesus, you have no fucking idea how _fuckable_ you are, do you?”

Ethan groaned loudly at that, fingers tightening on Mark's thighs in a way that was sure to leave bruises in the morning. Marks hips stuttered slightly before continuing their smooth movements. Ethan could already feel himself getting close, and Mark’s words were only serving to push him there faster and faster. At this point, Ethan was almost positive he could get off on Mark's voice alone.

Mark kept talking, his voice becoming more strained.

“You act s-so innocent, and I just want to f-fuck that act out of you…” Mark words trailed off, breathing heavily for a few moments. Ethan used the few seconds of reprieve from Mark's voice to try and regain some control of his rapidly deteriorating state, to hold on for a bit more time, to last a little longer. But now, Mark had planted an image in his mind he was surely not going to forget anytime soon.

Himself on his back, knees hiked up and over Mark's shoulders as the older man fucked him within an inch of his life. “Fuck, Mark…”

“But now,” Mark continued, “Christ, you ordering me around, just e-enough that I know that… that if it came to it, you w-wouldn’t be the one getting fucked, would you, Ethan?”

And now a new image sprouted in his mind, and he can’t tell which one he liked more, but he could tell that this new one had a very strong appeal. Mark underneath _him_ , the tables turned as the usually hyper-masculine, dominant man writhed underneath Ethan as he plowed into him from behind. A low, needy groan escaped Ethan. This wasn’t going to last much longer.

“M-Mark, I-I’m gonna-“

Mark nodded frantically above him, his eyes squeezed shut and brow furrowed. “Me t-too, Eth.”

Ethan re-adjusted his grip on Marks hips once again, helping him press down hard into Ethan as they grinded together for a few more seconds. Then, Mark’s fingernails were digging into his chest, and his hips were stuttering, canting forwards with enough pressure to pull the hair trigger holding back Ethan’s own orgasm, and they were both cumming.

Ethan was overtaken with the intensity of it, but not so much that he couldn’t hear the noise from Mark as he came. It was _pornographic_. Not even in his wildest dreams would he be able to imagine hearing a sound more arousing than that, and Ethan had enough presence of mind to try and hold back his own sound of release in order to commit that noise, unadulterated, into his memory.

And then it was still. The music still thrummed in the background, and there may have been singing, but it was all just a buzzing in Ethan’s ears as he was surrounded by the quiet sounds of the two of them trying to catch their collective breath.

Ethan never understood how people could lose time, but that moment could have lasted an hour for all he cared.

Eventually, once Ethan had managed to put enough oxygen back into his blood that he could feel his fingertips again, he huffed out an incredulous laugh. That _really just happened_

“ _Holy shit_ …”

Mark raised his head from where it had dropped between his shoulders, hands still on Ethan’s chest. The hair that had fallen into his face parted, revealing pink tinged cheeks and hooded eyes. Pink was a good look on Mark. Ethan probably had a red face, not pink, looking more like a beet than a blushing maiden.

Through his still huffing breaths, Mark grinned lopsidedly down at Ethan. Ethan cleared his throat.

“That was… new.”

Mark laughed a little and Ethan grinned, before shifting his weight back up onto his elbows to move into a sitting position. He grimaced inwardly as his underwear moved with him, the tell-tale cooling wet spot now just uncomfortable against his still hot skin.

As he sat up, Mark shifted on top of him, following the movement. One of Mark's hands reached out to steady himself on Ethan’s shoulder and Ethan’s hands, on instinct, found his hips once again.

Now they were sitting up again, more or less face to face. With the arousal in his body slowly abating, Ethan could feel his awkwardness starting to rise, his anxiety rising to the surface now that he was out of whatever trance it was that Mark had put him in. But Ethan refused to let it take stake in his head, actively fighting the worry just by reminding himself of the simple fact that _Mark was still in his lap_. He had made no effort to remove himself from where he sat, even now, he just sat there looking down at Ethan, hand resting gently on his shoulder.

Ethan braved it, releasing his grip on Marks hip and letting his hand wander up to smooth across Mark’s bare ribs, thumb trailing higher, almost grazing over his pectoral muscle. Ethan tipped his head back, his eyes meeting Marks at first, but then trailing back down to his mouth. Huh. They hadn’t kissed.

And, huh. He really wanted to kiss Mark.

Was this even a kissing type of situation? The man had just given him a lap dance, they had just gotten off on each other. Had the time for kissing passed? Should Ethan had done that in the hallway first? Or maybe after Mark had pulled him into the bedroom? What just happened seemed solely sexual, and kissing? Well, kissing was something else.

But, for all his overthinking and deconstructing of the pro’s and con’s of laying one on Mark, the other man apparently was not having quite the same internal struggle. The hand that had been on his shoulder moved up and around the back of his neck, long fingers carding through the short hair on the back of his head. Then Mark was suddenly less than an inch away, tilting his head and pressing his lips against Ethan’s.

Ethan, to his credit, caught on quick. A split second of _what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck_ later, and Ethan was closing his eyes, pressing back and opening his mouth to let his tongue slip into Marks.

The kiss was slow, Marks fingers massaging gently into Ethan’s scalp as they continued. It could have been days, for all Ethan knew, and _oops, there he goes losing time again_. In his defence, Mark was a _really_ good kisser.

When they finally parted, Mark didn’t go very far. His mouth pulled away, but then his forehead was resting against Ethan’s. Ethan watched him blearily as the other man opened his eyes. The fog in Ethan’s brain was clearing a little.

“Mark…” Ethan began, and Mark hummed a little in acknowledgement. “How did you get so good at lap dances?”

A beat passed, before Mark was moving his head away, giggles bubbling up before he exploded into laughter. Mark slid to the side, off of Ethan’s lap and coming to a sit on the mattress beside him. Ethan began to giggle with him, bringing a hand up to run through his hair, pushing it out of his eyes.

Eventually, as the laughter petered out, Ethan looked up at Mark, who was now looking at him with a small smile. Ethan returned it, though a little more shyly.

“So, um… did this, y’know, mean anything? Or was it just –“

“It meant something to me.” Ethan blinked at Mark, waiting for him to elaborate. Mark shrugged.

“You know me, I’m not really afraid to say what I want, or try and get what I want. And I…” He trailed off a little, taking a deep breath and then meeting Ethan’s eye. “I want you. I wasn’t kidding when I said I’ve wanted this a long time, because I have.”

Ethan was trying his best to process the words coming from Mark, but it almost seemed surreal, somehow more surreal than the lap-dance. Mark continued. “I’m sorry to put the burden on you, but how much this means entirely depends on how much you’re willing to give me. Because given half the chance, I’ll take it all.”

Ethan was finding it hard to keep eye contact with Mark as he spoke, but even as his eye twitched in a valiant effort to force him to look away, he kept it. Ethan cleared his throat. “S-so… you wanna… what? Be my boyfriend?” Despite himself and his bubbling anxiety, Ethan couldn’t keep away the grin he felt tugging at the corners of his mouth. Mark returned it.

“Absolutely.”

Ethan’s grin spread, and he ducked his head as he felt his cheeks warm again, bringing his hand up to cover his face in embarrassment. “Oh my god, this is insane!” Splitting his fingers, he peeked out from behind his hands, still grinning like a maniac. Mark reached out, smiling still, and grabbed Ethan’s wrists, pulling his hands away from his face and trailing his own hands down to hold them.

“Ethan Nestor…”

Ethan instinctively tried to pull his hands up and away from Mark to once again hide his face as Mark fixed him with a mock-serious stare. But Mark’s hands held strong and Ethan shook his head, laughing. Mark ducked his head to catch his eye again. “Will you be my boyfriend?”

“Oh my fucking god, this is so dumb! Yes, obviously!”

Finally, Mark let go of his wrists, a triumphant look on his face as he grinned like he had just won a trophy. When Ethan finally got his nervous giggling in check, Mark was looking at him with a happy, fond smile. Ethan sheepishly smiled back, bringing a hand up to rub the back of his neck.

“Kinda weird, that _that_ would happen first. You giving me a lap-dance before I even manage the courage to tell you I like you.”

Mark tilted his head. “Aw, you _like me_.” Mark practically sang the words, tone teasing.

“Hey, shut up! You just asked me to be your _boyfriend_!”

Marks smile turned devilish at an alarming speed, and he rose to his knees on the mattress. “Yeah, and you said yes.”

He inched toward Ethan, before swinging a leg back over his lap and placing himself back down exactly where he had been before, straddling Ethan. Ethan’s hands automatically rose to his hips again, head tilting back to look up at the handsome man that was now apparently his boyfriend.

Mark dropped his voice to a low rumble. “Does that mean I can touch you whenever I want?”

Ethan swallowed, Mark almost made the question sound like a threat. He nodded.

“You can do whatever you want to me, Mark.”

**Author's Note:**

> Maybe I'll do a sequel of Ethan returning the favour...


End file.
